


Allowed To Heal

by beargirl1393



Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Night Terrors, PTSD, war memories
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-11
Updated: 2013-05-11
Packaged: 2017-12-11 13:58:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,249
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/799503
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/beargirl1393/pseuds/beargirl1393
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dwalin suffers from night terrors, reliving all of the horrors that he has faced. He has never had anyone to comfort him...until now.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Allowed To Heal

**Author's Note:**

  * For [FannishMinded](https://archiveofourown.org/users/FannishMinded/gifts).



> Because fandom needs more Bilbo/Dwalin. Written for a prompt on the kink meme that wanted Dwalin with night terrors finally getting some comfort. Link to prompt: http://hobbit-kink.livejournal.com/7346.html?thread=16953778#t16953778
> 
> I actually combined two prompts by the same person, and the second link can be found here: http://hobbit-kink.livejournal.com/7346.html?thread=16954290#t16954290

_Too many…far too many…_

_We’re outnumbered…_

_Dwalin looked around, trying to find his brother and his prince (in that order because to hell with duty, family comes first. Even his trainers couldn’t beat that out of him). The field is coated liberally with blood, both the foul black of the Orcs and the more natural red of the dwarves. Moving requires stepping upon corpses, walking upon those who have fallen, those who perhaps are not dead yet._

_There is little time for such thoughts, and yet even as he swings his war hammer and axes, Dwalin cannot help but wonder at the cost. He had been trained to fight, yes, as he was the Royal Guard of Prince Thorin, but he had never imagined anything like this._

_So much blood…_

_Time seemed to freeze when Azog held up Thror’s head, smugly proclaiming his victory over the leader of the dwarves. Thrain was as good as dead, as no one had seen him since the madness had set in._

_(Aren’t we all mad? They speak of battles, glorifying them, when there is naught but death and destruction all around. Yet we press on. Who is really mad?)_

_Dwalin groans, even as he dispatches the Orc he had been fighting, when Thorin takes on the Defiler._

_(His job would be much easier if the Prince didn’t insist on throwing himself into danger. Thorin is the rightful heir to the throne now, as both Thror and Thrain are gone. If only the fool would be more careful. Dwalin has no wish to bury his friend, as he will have to do with so many others.)_

_When Thorin is knocked down, Dwalin does his best to get to him, to protect him, but he is too slow. There is too much distance, too many enemies, for Dwalin to make it in time._

_(Oh, how that thought haunts him. He had been so close, yet he could have done so little while his Prince, his friend, was slain.)_

_When Thorin defends himself with an oak branch, when he manages to defeat the Defiler, Dwalin feels hope that the tide of battle may turn in their favor._

_(How could he be so foolish, when fully half of the corpses he had stepped on had been dwarves?)_

_When the battle had been won and the losses were tallied, it was all Dwalin could do to keep his feet. So few had survived._

_Yet, he managed, as both his brother and his Prince (now King) had survived. He had not failed his brother, nor had he failed in his duties._

_(But he knows he will relive this moment, this battle, and see all of the ways that it could have ended even more badly. He knows he will watch his brother and friend die each night, regardless of reality, because no one had prepared him for this and dreams are rarely logical.)_

_As time passes, he is involved in more fights. Small things, hunting down packs of Orcs, wargs, or goblins that come too near to their camp. Each battle, each foe slain, causes something to break inside of him. He keeps that hidden, as he is a warrior, strong and brave unto death._

_(But he will watch Thorin when they return, and will see the other dwarf heal in the embrace of his sister, or in observing the antics of his sister-sons. And he wants that, badly. Someone to comfort him, to help him cope with the pain and the loss, but no one tries. No one ever sees that he needs that help.)_

_Tonight, he relives each past battle, and in every one he loses those dear to him, regardless of the reality. One figure appears repeatedly, yet he was not present at the time._

_(His time came later, much later, and Dwalin lost as much time worrying for his safety as he did admiring the other’s bravery.)_

_When the newest confrontation appears, he is helpless to protect his king as he is set upon by the white warg. When his One tackles the nearest Orc, Dwalin’s heart nearly stopped._

_(He was supposed to stay safe. He wasn’t a warrior. He could barely handle a blade, let alone kill.)_

_And then he is ripped to shreds, while Dwalin does nothing. He is hanging from a tree, doing nothing as his One is ripped to pieces, screaming his name, begging for help that does not come._

_Dwalin…Dwalin please…Please…_

Dwalin jerks from his dream with a start, heart pounding and chest heaving. Another night memory, worse than before. His One…his One…

Shivering, Dwalin leans against the tree he had been sleeping by, drawing his knees up to his chest, and shaking like a leaf in a fierce gale. It is only after he moved that he realized that he was not alone.

Bilbo was there, his hands still outstretched, reaching for him. His beautiful face is creased with worry, barely visible in the moonlight.

_Dwalin…Dwalin please…Please…_

Dwalin shudders, curling further in on himself as he remembers his One’s screams of anguish.

A light touch grounds him, forcing him to focus on what is in front of him rather than dwelling on his dream. His One is here, living and breathing and whole. Not torn to shreds, not brutally murdered. He is here, alive, in front of Dwalin.

_Please…Please…_

Dwalin shudders once more. He has dealt with these night memories for years, ignoring how his heart would race and fear would cloud his mind upon his waking. He had ignored it, because he had no one to talk to, no one to help him.

Now, he has his One.

“What happened Dwalin?” Bilbo asked, his gentle voice soft so as to not wake the others. “Do you suffer from night terrors?”

Suddenly, it’s too much, and all he wants is to confess, to be weak for once and let someone comfort him. He is strong every day; let him have one night of peace.

“My kind calls them night memories,” Dwalin said, shuddering again, “As that is usually what they are; memories, of things witnessed that would be better forgotten. But I can never forget…”

Dwalin had whispered that last, images from his dream still flashing through his mind.

_Dwalin…Please…_

Bilbo’s gentle touch provides a small distraction, and Dwalin straightens his legs, parting them slightly so the hobbit can kneel in front of him. Even sitting while the hobbit kneels, Dwalin still towers over his smaller lover.

Bilbo doesn’t let that stop him, leaning forward and wrapping his arms around Dwalin’s neck, burying his face in Dwalin’s chest. Dwalin only hesitates for a moment before he returns the embrace, wrapping his arms around Bilbo’s waist and burying his face in his honeyed curls.

“Hush now my love,” Bilbo whispered, feeling the tremors that still wracked the dwarf’s frame. “Hush now. The past cannot be changed, whether for the better or for worse. Balin is fine, Thorin is fine, the rest of the company is fine, I am fine, and most importantly, you are fine.”

Dwalin lets his tears fall, shifting to bury his face in Bilbo’s neck. The hobbit is nearly hidden in his embrace, yet it is only because of his quiet strength that Dwalin remains upright.

For far too long, he had had to be strong, brave, the perfect warrior.

Tonight, with his One in his arms, he is allowed to be weak.

He is allowed to heal.


End file.
